


Quelqu’un M’a Dit

by wandofhawthorn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-15
Updated: 2012-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 17:34:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandofhawthorn/pseuds/wandofhawthorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy brings his new girlfriend, Astoria Greengrass to the party of the year (a combined stag/hen party for Harry and Ginny), and Hermione can't help but remember a fateful trip to Paris that had been fueled by firewhiskey and frustration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quelqu’un M’a Dit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meetmeinmontauk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meetmeinmontauk/gifts).



> Original request:
> 
> \- drunk!Hermione  
> \- karaoke  
> \- jealousy
> 
> I want it angsty. And Drastoria as a side pairing!
> 
> Thanks to Ashley (who changes her url on tumblr so often that it would be pointless to link her here) for looking over and making sure I didn't make any stupid mistakes.

“You’ve been awfully quiet tonight, Hermione,” Harry said, sliding into the chair next to her. He was clutching a pint of something, obviously having a good time. It was his stag party after all. His eyes were focused on something across the room, and Hermione followed his gaze to rest on Ginny.

“Just tired, I suppose,” she replied, taking a sip of the fruity drink someone had pushed into her hand. “It’s not every day you get to organize a party like this.”

“It wasn’t too terrible, I hope, planning a combined party?” Harry asked, slightly offhandedly, still watching his fiancé.

“No, Harry, not at all.” Hermione smiled, amused at how completely oblivious Harry was to anything that wasn’t Ginny. “Ron organized all the food, of course, and Arthur and Kingsley worked out the security. I really only had to make sure that the invitations went out to the right people.”

It had been an easy party to plan, but the charm on the invitations had been a bit more complicated than Hermione had originally expected – keeping unwanted guests out of the party of the year was top priority. The Ministry had given them permission to place a magical boundary around the outside of the Green Dragon to keep the press away from the front entrance, and the invitations were the key to getting past the thin gold line (much like Dumbledore’s age line from her fourth year). When Harry had handed over the guest list, Hermione had groaned. Seventy-five invitations had gone out, and each one had to be individually charmed.

“Thanks for this,” Harry muttered after a minute, finally pulling his eyes away from Ginny. He smiled, squeezed her elbow and vacated the chair. “Karaoke later, right?”

“You couldn’t pay me enough money to get up there, but you sing your heart out,” she joked. Karaoke had been Ginny’s request, and Hermione only hoped that too much liquor would be consumed before the enchanted microphone made its appearance.

“Hey, you made it!” Harry’s voice rang back to her ears, and she turned in her seat to see who had just arrived. Her heart dropped into her stomach at the sight of white blonde hair and pointed features, accompanied by a thin, tall brunette.

“Sorry we’re late,” Draco said, clapping Harry on the back. “You remember Astoria, yeah?”

 

 

6 months prior

“ _You can’t be serious,” Hermione scoffed. Share an office? With_  him _? Tibbens had to be crazy. Or Confunded._

“ _Surely you don’t protest because of his history?” her boss asked. “Draco Malfoy has been cleared of all charges and he’s been doing very well, working his way through the Ministry much like you did, Ms. Granger.”_

“ _Oh, it’s not_  his  _history at all,” she replied. “It’s_  our  _history. It’s_  him _. I can’t stand him. One of us will be dead – or worse,_  fired –  _within a week.” The news had come in last week that Malfoy was the new liaison between the Auror Office and the MLE, but she had hoped they wouldn’t be working too closely with each other. She knew that Harry had already made amends with their old classmate, having worked with him for several weeks on updating the Auror’s information database on Death Eaters. Malfoy had been indispensible to Harry. No matter how much Harry told her he had changed, she’d never be able to put up with that sneer every day._

“ _We don’t have anywhere else to put him, and you’ll do well to get along with him,” Tibbens said, his finger pointed threateningly at her as if to add “or else.”_

_She crossed her arms over her chest and sat back in her chair as the grey haired man vacated her office, replaced almost immediately by a sneering ex-Slytherin and Death Eater._  Ex-Death Eater _, she reminded herself._

“ _Granger,” he said, sliding behind the opposite desk._

“ _Malfoy,” she spat back. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t retaliate._

 

 

Hermione faced away from the door as Ginny swept past her to welcome the new guests. It still surprised Hermione how quickly Draco had been welcomed into their group of friends, but once they had gotten past their initial doubts about him, it had been easy. Hermione wished it was still easy for her, but they’d already burned that bridge in Paris.

She resolutely stared at her drink as he passed her seat, not trusting her face to remain unconcerned. Taking another sip, she let the slight taste of alcohol rest on her tongue. It wasn't nearly strong enough if she was going to have to put up with his presence for an entire evening.

“Hermione, come and join the party!” Ginny called from the bar. Colorful shots were being poured into several glasses, and she could see a small crowd gathered around, ready to throw back whatever concoction Ginny had ordered.

Hermione rose from her seat and made her way over, a small plastic cup shoved into her hand by long fingers. She met cold grey eyes, and she couldn’t help but blink rapidly.  _It shouldn’t be this hard_ , Hermione thought.  _We’ve been working together without any problems for six weeks_. Apparently social situations were different than sitting across from each other in a stuffy office.

She watched as Draco wrapped an arm around the other woman’s hip. Astoria Greengrass. Pureblood. Rich. Everything Mummy and Daddy wanted for their darling Draco. Hermione tried not to sneer, choosing instead to press her lips together in a thin line. Draco smiled at Astoria with a lightness to his expression that Hermione recognized with a jolt. He was… happy?

  

 

6 weeks prior, Paris

_The fact that Hermione had worked with Draco for more than three days without strangling him surprised her, so when she realized four and a half months had passed with nothing more than the occasional heated argument, she was dumbfounded. They worked well together, bouncing ideas off of the other and increasing their productivity so that they were both due for a promotion. When Tibbens had assigned them both to represent their department at a conference in Paris, Hermione found herself looking forward to the trip. After all, it was_ Paris _._

_Using an international Portkey, they arrived in the hotel with only enough time to drop off their bags and rush back downstairs._

“ _So, Granger,” Draco asked when they finally had a minute to breathe, “how does Weaselbee feel about you running off to Paris with the likes of me?”_

_Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the grin that broke out across her face. “We’re here for work, remember?” she shot back. “Ron has nothing to worry about, and you know it.” Truth be told, Ron had voiced his concerns just that morning, but Hermione didn’t want to give Draco the satisfaction._

_Draco’s face literally lit up in a smile, and he leaned towards her. She was so shocked by the look on his face – he seemed so much_  younger,  _as if he hadn’t had a care in the world – that she almost missed the words that he all but whispered, “It’s still Paris, Granger. I’d say he has quite a bit to worry about.”_

_She tried to shake the feeling in her stomach, but between the casual way Draco took her elbow to lead her through the crowd seemed to fog up her head._

 

 

She watched them over the rim of her glass for the rest of the evening. The easy way they seemed to get on together was disconcerting.  _Snap out of it, Hermione_ , she chastised herself.  _He doesn’t want you_.

Draco’s fingers curled around the back of Astoria’s neck and she leaned into him.

  

 

_The speaker was incredibly dull. Even Hermione, ever ready to listen and learn and absorb information, could admit that. The alcohol from dinner was doing nothing to help – the French were apparently a bit more keen about their wine than she remembered. She leaned on her chin on her hand, idly dragging her fork around the table with her other index finger._

You could at least act interested.

_The piece of parchment found itself into Hermione’s view, Draco’s angular script scrawled across it._

It’s not my fault he wants to see if he can replicate the effects of the Draught of Living Death with his speech.  _She shoved the scrap back, watching Draco chuckle under his breath when he read her reply. She covered her mouth with her hand. She always had been a giggly drunk._

We could always leave,  _came the written reply. She looked disdainfully at him, as if he were asking her to skip an exam._

No we can’t.  _She slid the parchment back, resigning herself to an evening of the driest lecture she’d ever heard._

_The pressure of slim fingers on the back of her neck almost caused her to jump out of her seat. Meeting Draco’s gaze, she saw the faint blush of intoxication across his pale cheeks. His eyes sparkled with mischief, and Hermione found herself intrigued._  It’s just the alcohol,  _she reminded herself._

_Draco tilted his head towards the door before leaning closer to her and whispering in her ear. “Meet me in the hallway in five minutes.” His hand was still resting on the back of her neck, and Hermione felt herself leaning into it. He pushed up from his seat, his hand lingering on her skin for a moment more before making his way out of the large conference room._

_Hermione bit her lip._

 

 

Hermione practically threw herself at the bar when the next round of shots were being passed out. She didn’t need this – not tonight. Tonight was about her best friends having a good time before their wedding and not about her  _infatuation_  with Draco bloody Malfoy.

She didn’t realize until the shot was halfway down her throat that it had been straight firewhiskey. She coughed, the burn traveling down the back of her throat.

“You okay?” Ginny asked, placing a tentative hand on Hermione’s arm. “You don’t normally drink like this.”

Clearing her throat, Hermione nodded. “Just stressed, I suppose. I just need to let go a little.”

“He’d take you back, you know,” Ginny whispered after a few moments of silence.

“He deserves better than me, Gin.” Hermione’s gaze landed on Ron, standing halfway across the room with Dean and Seamus. “There’s no going back to that.”

Just past the trio of boys, she watched Draco lean towards Astoria and whisper something in her ear. She noticed Astoria’s cheeks blush as she caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

 

 

“ _Took you long enough.”_

_Hermione jumped at the sound of Draco’s voice when she slid through the door. He was leaning casually against a pillar in the lobby, a bottle of Ogden’s in his hand._

“ _Nicked this,” he explained when she raised an eyebrow. “Fancy misbehaving?”_

“ _We really should go back inside,” Hermione replied, her hands moving to her hips. “When Tibbens finds out --”_

“ _Oh, take the stick out of your arse and live a little, Granger.”_

“ _I do not --”_

_Draco chuckled, cracked open the bottle of firewhiskey, and took a quick drink. His other hand shot out and curled around her wrist, pulling her towards him. Surprised and intoxicated, she stumbled slightly. Her hand landed on his chest, and he lowered his mouth to her ear. “I could knock it loose for you, if you like,” he whispered._

_Hermione felt her face heat and a weight dropped in her abdomen. A nervous giggle escaped her lips._

 

 

Hermione was staring unashamedly now. She had given up trying to avoid looking at the pair of them. She knew it was a terrible idea -- she was only punishing herself. She gripped the glass in her hand a bit too tightly, wondering idly if she should’ve refused the Automatic Refilling Charm the bartender had placed on it earlier. There would be hell to pay in the morning, but for now, Hermione couldn’t give a damn.

“Something bothering you, Hermione?” Luna’s wide blue eyes came into view, and Hermione lost sight of the platinum blonde hair for a moment.

“Why would you say that?” She tried to smile, but she realized it probably looked more like a grimace.

“I don’t think that glass has done anything to you, but it seems like you’re trying to punish it for something. You haven't caught the Megardily Flu, have you?”

“What's – oh, never mind.” Hermione flexed her fingers, letting the glass rest on the bar top. “Just a little stressed with work, I suppose,” she explained quickly.

“I thought you were working well with Draco.”

“What?” Hermione’s eye couldn’t help but flick over Luna’s shoulder, and caught sight of Draco leaning towards Astoria, placing a hand on her cheek and kissing her soundly. “Nothing like that, Luna,” she managed to grind out. “Just -- little things.”

  

 

_She really had no idea how she ended up in this situation. One minute she had been in the lobby of the hotel with Draco Malfoy whispering things in her ear that would’ve made Rita’s Quick-Quotes Quill have a stroke, and the next minute she was pressing him against the inside of the door to her hotel room, her hands diving inside his jacket while her tongue traced the pulse point just below his right ear._

_The bottle of firewhiskey had remained in his hand by some miracle, and she wrenched her lips from Draco’s neck to take a sip. His eyes were sparkling._

“ _Everything about this is wrong,” she breathed._

“ _You think too much.”_

“ _That’s what I do.”_

“ _I can make it stop, if you want.”_

_Hermione huffed a laugh and rolled her eyes. “I bet you couldn’t.”_

“ _Is that a challenge, Granger?”_

_She frowned, pursed her lips, trailing her gaze between the bottle of firewhiskey and Draco’s mouth. She so desperately wanted to stop thinking, to act on impulse, to not care about the consequences and live a little. They had grown up too fast._

“ _Yeah, I think it is.”_

_She was surprised when the combination of Draco’s hand on her cheek and his lips on hers made the noise quiet in her head. She melted into him._

 

 

“To my best friend, Harry Potter, I wish you all the luck in the world -- Weasley women are few and far between, and they’re as fiery as their hair would suggest.” Laughter followed Ron’s statement. “To my baby sister -- go easy on the poor bloke, yeah?”

He raised his glass and the crowd followed suit, toasting to the happy couple. Hermione smiled with the rest of them. Ginny and Harry shared a kiss, which turned into something more heated when Harry dipped Ginny back in front of the guests. Catcalls erupted. Hermione scanned the crowd, her eyes instinctively landing on Draco.

His arm was curled around Astoria's waist, and his hand rested loosely against her hip. She watched his fingers, his pale skin contrasting against the dark blue silk of Astoria's dress. A shout of "karaoke!" echoed across the bar, and Hermione watched his grip tighten on Astoria's hip.

 

 

_Draco had let her take the lead, whispering encouragement when it was needed. Clothing had been shed easily, trailing from the door to the bed. The duvet was dropped unceremoniously onto the floor. He leaned against the headboard, eyes dark and cloudy. The mixture of alcohol and the carnal need that had bubbled up inside her was enough to keep her from being embarrassed at the easy way he stared at her body._

_She moved above him, one arm braced against the headboard and the other against his chest. She felt like she was on fire. Only sensation mattered -- the smell of sweat and firewhiskey and something forbidden, the lingering taste of Draco's skin on her tongue, the delicious stretch between her thighs. She slowed her pace, the need to draw out the experience overwhelming her._

_Draco growled beneath her, and his fingers dug into her hips. "Enough teasing, Granger. My turn."_

_With a single movement, he pulled her against him and flipped them over. Hermione braced her arms over her head to keep from knocking into the headboard as Draco switched angles and pounded relentlessly into her._

_Her mind was gloriously silent as she broke apart, Draco following a moment later._

 

  

"Aw, come on, mate, stick around," Harry said, his arm thrown around Draco's shoulders. "Just because Astoria is a spoilsport doesn't mean you have to be."

Draco laughed, watching his girlfriend disappear into the Apparition Point. "I suppose I can stay for a little while longer, but don't think for a minute that you're going to get me to do any sort of singing."

The karaoke microphone was making its way through the crowd. Ginny and Luna had done a rather impressive rendition of "Can You Dance the Hippogriff?", but everyone else had declined so far. Hermione leaned against the bar, her drink still clutched in her fingers. A small sobering charm had helped her pace herself so that she wasn't falling all over the place, but she still had a decent buzz. The microphone appeared in front of her face, and she grimaced.

"Absolutely not, Ginny," she said.

"Oh, come on, Hermione, it's fun!"

"It's the exact opposite of fun, and it would be torture for everyone else in the room."

Ginny slid onto a bar stool next to her and laughed. "I guess you're right."

"Why don't you ask Fleur? Surely Veela blood comes with a built-in singing voice," Hermione suggested.

Ginny hurried off to find her sister-in-law, and within minutes, a frightening familiar song drifted from the enchanted speakers.

“ _On me dit que nos vies ne valent pas grand-chose..._ ” Fleur did indeed have a beautiful singing voice, but the words had caused Hermione's heart to stop beating. Her eyes moved across the bar, resting on Draco's form, and she was terrified to realize that he had directed his attention at her as well.

“ _Elles passent en un instant comme fanent les roses..._ ” Hermione couldn't draw a breath. She was frozen against the bar, Draco's eyes pinning her in place. The party ceased to exist around them – the only thing that mattered was the heat in Draco's stare and the nervous fluttering that had exploded in Hermione's stomach.

“ _On me dit que le temps qui glisse est un salaud, que do nos chagrins il s'en fait des manteaux, pourtant quelqu'un m'a dit..._ ” She blinked, shook her head, and the effect was disrupted. Her drink was dropped haphazardly onto the bar as she broke for the door. She needed air.

The chorus drifted out of the building after her, and she wished Draco hadn't told her what it meant.

“ _Que tu m'aimais encore, c'est quelqu'un qui m'a dit que tu m'aimais encore. Serait-ce possible alors?”_

 

 

_The final night of the conference had come too soon, and Hermione was dreading going back to London. It was easier to imagine her life without obligations while she was in Paris. She picked at the sleeve of her dress robes._

“ _Want to dance, Granger?” Draco asked. The band had started a new song with a relaxed tempo, and Hermione found herself swaying to the tune. She bit her lip, uncertain, but nodded anyway._

_Draco's hand tightened around hers as the other snaked around her waist, and they glided easily across the dance floor._

“ _I think I like this song.”_

“ _Do you know what it says?” Draco asked, slowing their pace as they danced._

“ _My French is rudimentary at best, unfortunately. Do you?”_

_Draco nodded, leaned in closer and whispered, “It's a little cheesy, but then, everything about the French usually is. Basically, she's cursing time and fate for being so cruel. The chorus says '_ Yet someone told me that you still loved me. Is it possible then?'”

_Hermione smiled, leaning further into his embrace. “It's pretty.”_

 

  

The night air was cool against her skin, and she wrapped her arms around herself as she took three deep breaths in quick succession. Her life (personal, not professional) was quickly disintegrating around her. When she had returned from Paris, she had tried to make it work with Ron again, but the guilt had been too much to bear. By the time she had called it off, Draco had made it perfectly clear that what had happened in Paris was a one-time thing.

The sound of the door opening behind her startled her out of her thoughts, and she turned, expecting Ginny or Luna. “I just needed some fresh –”

The words stuck in her throat. Draco stood behind her, a muggle cigarette between his lips. He lit it with the tip of his wand, and Hermione watched the smoke curl out of his lips. Inexplicably, anger rose up in her chest. How _dare_ he follow her out here, after flaunting Astoria on his arm like she was some sort of prize. How  _dare_  he approach her  _now_ , after she had too much to drink and all she wanted to do was curse something. She'd realize later that her anger was completely unfounded, but for the moment, Hermione was seething.

She pursed her lips and tightened her grip on her arms. “So, how's Astoria?”

“Oh, don't start, Granger,” Draco huffed, taking a long draw from the cigarette.

“No, really, Malfoy, I'm  _happy_  for you.” Her tone could have cut glass.

He moved towards her, a glint in his eye. “Don't make this about you. You're only going to make a fool out of yourself. Astoria wants to be with me, and I want to be with her. This has  _nothing_  to do with you.”

Fueled by alcohol, Hermione invaded Draco's personal space. “I'm so glad it's  _mutual_ , then.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Hermione's head was reeling, and she bit her tongue. Now was not the time to pour her heart out onto the concrete. Not tonight. She dropped her gaze, the urge to Apparate away becoming increasingly appealing. She didn't want to deal with this.

Draco dropped the cigarette, crushing it into the pavement with the toe of his shoe. He leaned into her, the smell of smoke enveloping her.

“Don't blame me for what happened, Granger. You made it perfectly clear when we got back where your interests lie.”

Hermione's mouth opened in a retort, but Draco laid a finger across her lips to silence her.

“ _You chose him first_ ,” he hissed. “Merlin knows I don't understand why you went running back to him so fast, but I wasn't going to sit around and pine for you while you started the perfect family with Weasley. So don't blame me for moving on. It was one night in Paris, so don't make it into something bigger.”

Hermione's hand flew to Draco's cheek, and the resulting  _smack!_  gave her far too much satisfaction to be healthy. The next moment she was pressed against the side of the building, the rough brick digging into her back and Draco's lean form pressed into her chest.

“Do that again –” Draco growled. He pinned her to the wall, her wrists held painfully next to her shoulders. She watched something flash behind his eyes before he sneered. “Jealousy doesn't become you, Granger.”

He pushed away from her, and made his way back to the door. Hermione took a deep breath, choking back the angry tears that were threatening to fall.

“Hermione, you okay?” Harry's head poked out of the door as Draco disappeared through it. Hermione smiled as best as she could, nodded, and took Ron's offered arm.

“Yeah, I'm fine.”  _I'm always fine._

**Author's Note:**

> This story was heavily influenced by the song "Quelqu’un M’a Dit" by Calra Bruni. Lyrics, translation and music video can be found [here](http://lyricstranslate.com/en/quelqu%E2%80%99un-m%E2%80%99-dit-someone-told-me.html-16).


End file.
